The Little Deaths
by aevium
Summary: Sanji takes a summer job in order to escape a ghost of his past, rekindling with old friends and forging bonds with new. After his first shift, he unknowingly hooks up with a member of the group whom he's never met: Zoro. Immediately drawn to temptation, they thrust themselves into a casual and unhealthy fling on tremendously shaky footing. ZoSan modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: **Pre-time skip looks. Zoro and Sanji are 25 years old in this fic – everyone else is aged up accordingly. Also many thanks to **riotoftime** for being this fic's official godmother and consultant. I fully credit her with some of the ideas and headcanons discussed during the planning phase of this fic.

**Pairing(s):** Zoro/Sanji (main), Ace/Sanji (past), Usopp/Nami (implied), Marco/Ace (background), Franky/Robin (background), Sabo/Koala (background)

**Warnings:** language, explicit sexual content (first chapter is nsfw), heavy themes such as childhood trauma, emotional damage, sex addiction, drugs, some borderline BDSM elements, and more.

* * *

The Little Deaths

Chapter 1:

"Bent out of shape and built to morph"

* * *

_Thump._

A box. His things. Pretty sure that's the one with the bathroom products. He bends down to pick up another and sinks forward.

_Thump._

He sets it down, pushes it back and hears it rattle. He stares. That's got the kitchen utensils. Twists back and reaches for his laptop bag.

_Thump._

The luggage, now. His movements mechanic, jagged, not his usual refined grace, Sanji struggles to lift the luggage fully into the trunk. He looks down at it dimly for a while, vacant as it rests on the edge when a body slides in next to him. He skids aside as that comfortable form picks it up and patiently sets it into the trunk.

"You okay?" Ace asks.

Sanji doesn't give him his eyes, can't stand to, just turns back to his things and mutters a faint, "Yeah."

"Hey, Sanji, what's this thing?"

Sanji has a feeling of dread before his eyes even land on what's captured Luffy's attention. "Luffy, put that down! You've never seen an apple peeler before? Stop going through my shit and help load it into the car!"

"It just looks cool, is all," Luffy says, wrinkling his face up as he holds the apple peeler to his nose, inspecting it.

Sanji swipes it from him and places it back into the box it came from. He tucks the flaps in and kicks it across the pavement towards Ace. It doesn't take them long to finishing loading up Ace's car before they're on the road. Sanji's already said his goodbyes to the shitty old geezer, though he knows he'll be back by the end of the summer and so the farewell with Zeff had been violent, the man threatening to terminate Sanji permanently. Nothing out of the ordinary there. It's not like he hasn't already done it in the past before hiring him back.

In the car, Luffy plays with the radio, apparently unsure of what he wants to listen to but seeming to settle on a station that's playing _Sweater Weather_. Sanji is in the back, somewhat cramped due to having a couple large bins filled with clothes beside him for company, and he curls further towards the window. He barely hears Luffy speaking to him before Ace sets a hand on Luffy's shoulder and tells the cheery twenty-three year old to leave Sanji alone. When they finally hit the freeway, Sanji can see Ace glance at him through the front mirror with a grin.

"There goes New York. Gonna miss it?" the freckled twenty-six year old asks.

Sanji shakes his head and smirks. No. Not for a while, anyway. "Not like I'll be gone long."

Ace smirks and sets his eyes back on the road. "Well, there's nothing wrong with taking a break from the norm. Boston's fun in the summer, you'll love it."

Sanji grants him a small smile before turning back to the window. He watches the cars for a while before curiosity overtakes him and he shifts, twisting back as far as he can see over his things. He watches as the skyline of the city he's lived in for fifteen years begins to fade away. There's something cleansing about it. And yet he can't help but feel he's doing the wrong thing – leaving behind a ghost that he should be dealing with, not avoiding. This is far too easy and he's torn up; shredded.

He should be helping her, he thinks. He should be doing _something_ for her. But the shitty old man had refused to let him associate, and maybe he was right.

Still he can't help but feel compassionate towards her, even with all these years wedged between them.

* * *

Ace smoothly pulls into a vacant spot in the underground lot and puts his car in park. Luffy is out of the vehicle before he even cuts the engine, stretching and suggesting that they should get some food before moving all of Sanji's stuff in.

Ace gets out of the car and stares at his adoptive brother from the driver's side. He places a hand on the roof and exhales loudly, deep in thought, as if contemplating a life or death decision. "I almost want to agree, but let's just get his stuff in there for now."

"Ace, since when do you say no to food?" Luffy asks, puzzled and disappointed.

Sanji watches from the window as Ace gestures to him in the car, giving Luffy a loaded glare. He wants to smile. Ace always has been too sweet to him. He rediscovers his energy and steps out, stretching and giving Ace an affirmatory smile. It's one of those ones they often do to check in with each other, making sure the other's okay for the moment.

Ace sends a soft expression his way before unlocking his trunk and strolling towards it. He pulls out the dolly and sets it up, the clatter echoing in the isolated lot. He stacks some boxes and various bags onto it until he's maximized its use. Then he hands it to Sanji to stroll and calls Luffy over to help, the younger man having become distracted by a dog in the car a couple spots away from them.

"Think they'll be gone long? It's mean leaving a dog in there like that," Luffy ponders as Ace hands him a large bin from the back seat. It's pretty heavy and awkward to carry, Sanji knows, but Luffy always has been this gangly phenomenon of astonishing, startling strength. But a dark silhouette is certainly misleading until its true colour is revealed, bright and vivid and blinding.

"Hopefully not, little bro," Ace acknowledges offhandedly. "Okay, I'll come back for these," he points to some more things in the trunk for which they have no more hands to spare the attention. "We'll head up for now."

After the car is closed up and locked, they head towards the basement elevator.

Luffy babbles as they walk along awkwardly with Sanji's things. "It's gonna be so much fun having you here, Sanji! Can you make us dinner every night?"

Sanji smiles despite the blatantly demanding tone of Luffy's request. "You know I'm not here on vacation, Luffy? Swing by Zest and pay if you want me to cook for you every night." He hears Luffy grumble something along the lines of 'that's no fun' but again, Ace shoots him that look, and Luffy silences himself.

It's not that Sanji's unused to Luffy's personality – and though he knows he's got a temper that flares in Luffy's presence, it doesn't mean he dislikes him. He loves Luffy of course, he's known him for years – must be five or six at this point. Luffy is one of his closest, dearest friends. But right now just isn't the time. Ace knows this, and it's why he's keeping Luffy in check.

To Luffy's direct knowledge, Sanji's move here is only galvanized by the prospect of spending a summer with his friends, but Sanji knows Luffy by now. He doesn't underestimate him like he used to, back in the day. He knows that Luffy senses something is wrong – the guy's one of the most strangely intuitive anomalies Sanji's ever come across. Without knowing details, he'll always know. Which is why today, even though his conduct seems consistent with his usual peculiar nature, Sanji's sure Luffy is subconsciously attempting to ground him with a sense of normalcy. It's his way of showing him that everything will be okay, that Sanji's around family now.

Normally, Sanji would be okay with this. And he does appreciate it, but he just can't deal with it right now.

As they stand and wait for the elevator, Sanji looks around. He clamps his teeth down lightly on his tongue, chewing absentmindedly. He is in desperate need of a cigarette and some time to himself. He debates telling them to go ahead, that he'll just be a moment, but no. He'll get through this first. He just hopes Sabo's okay with him smoking off his balcony.

He spaces out but goes with the motions and when he comes back, he's already staring at the number on the door to his new, temporary apartment. Ace has already texted Sabo that they're here, so he simply opens the unlocked door.

"Sabo!" Luffy greets as soon as the door's open. "Come eat with us!"

They hustle in clumsily with everything and Sanji barely has time to look up before he hears Sabo's voice from the couch in the living room.

"Hey, guys!" Sabo greets, getting up from the couch where it looks like he must be doing some research for work, considering the amount of notes sprawled around his laptop and a radical amount of Starbucks debris. "Just drop everything right here where I left space. Sanji!" the blond exclaims, trying to greet Sanji while simultaneously making sure everything's organized. He holds his arms out for a hug. "It's been a while."

Sanji stiffens, then sinks into the hug, patting the taller man on the back. "I know. What's it been, like a year?"

They separate and Sabo answers with a grin. "Something like that. Man, it's good to see you. I'll get this into the bedroom and – is this everything?"

"Uh..." Sanji looks back to his stuff, before Ace cuts in.

"Almost. I'm gonna get the last of it with Luffy now. You help him get his stuff in the bedroom. Be right back."

After the two brothers exit, Sabo shoots Sanji a gleaming expression. He looks like he wants to explode with excitement. It's just so good to see each other again. Life kept them apart. Sabo's got a busy career as a journalist, after all, and living in separate cities doesn't help. Before they knew it a year came and went, and here they are now standing together with that same year separating them.

"How was the drive?" Sabo inquires in that raspy voice of his. It makes Sanji realize how much he's missed his unique voice.

"Cramped," Sanji says, exhaling loudly. "Hey, thanks for doing this by the way. I've always loved your place, so this is perfect."

"Oh don't even mention it. It's just perfect timing, works out. I'm barely here anymore – always at Koala's. She's excited about us going through a short stint living together. It's a good test, you know?" Sabo laughs. "But yeah, of course, like – you just forward me the rent; it's no problem at all."

Sanji nods. It really is a perfect arrangement for his purposes here. "How's Koala?"

"She's..." Sabo takes a pause, drawing in a deep breath as he thinks about her. "...she's good."

"Things going well?" Sanji surmises from that goofy expression sprouting on the blond's face.

"Really well," Sabo accentuates with a toothy grin and flushed cheeks.

Sanji laughs shortly. "Good. I'm glad. Sweet, pretty lady like her, she deserves a guy like you."

Sabo beams and wraps an arm around Sanji, giving him a firm squeeze. "Too kind, too kind. It's really good to have you here, Doe."

"Never gonna stop calling me that, are you?" Sanji asks dully. Sabo shakes his head with a chirpy 'nope'.

It's a nickname Sabo actually gave him before he'd even met him, back in the days when Sanji had been seeing Ace. At the time, Ace had been living in New York and they had an unusual but comfortable sort of relationship going on. It could be more classified as a long-standing fling since they'd never considered themselves official, but it was sweet and tender and gave them both what they'd needed at the time: comfort. Because of the unorthodox nature of their relationship and the reality of what they both wanted and needed from each other, they kept it at a liaison. It had started when Sanji was nineteen and lasted into his early 20s. Eventually word of their relationship got out and their sexual affairs trickled to a slow, tranquil end when Ace met Marco. But they kept the friendship, strong as ever.

However, on Ace's end, while they were still sexually involved, Sabo had suspected that Ace was seeing someone – he just didn't know who. Not the gender, not anything, and since Ace was openly bisexual at that point, it could've been anyone. So he simply referred to this suspected lover as 'Doe'. He's never stopped calling Sanji that to this day, but he doesn't withhold from using his proper name too.

Sabo's bachelor's apartment is clean, simple and the perfect size. It's cozy, but mostly because Sabo has decorated it that way over the years. He's managed to turn it into a very warm and inspiring place. Always the bookworm, his bookshelves are as full as can be. Currently, it seems to have become a problem for him. He's got way too many books stacked up wherever he can fit them and he seems to have visibly extended this obsession to his coffee table, which is being overrun by various novels, texts and volumes. In fact, his laptop is settled atop a rather large encyclopedia right now.

"Don't worry, I'll clear some of these books out...somehow," Sabo reassures, laughing as he scratches his head. "I really should give them away or sell them or something..."

Sanji watches in amusement as Sabo looks at his books like he's trying to crack a code. Then, his craving for a cig overwhelms him, and he has to ask. "Mind if I smoke on the balcony?"

"What?" Sabo asks, shaken from his mind, responding quickly out of habit before actually processing Sanji's words. "Oh, the balcony. Yeah. Yeah totally, that's fine."

Sanji is already relieved as he steps past the couch and opens the sliding glass door. A comfortable breeze greets him, its temperature a tantalizing reminder of the beginning of summer. He doesn't hesitate to pull out a cigarette and light up, breathing in and letting the comfortable bliss of nicotine wash down the stress from his body. He's out there for ten minutes at most – hears Luffy and Ace return at some point – before he re-enters and sees that all of his things are gone. They must've finished moving everything into his room.

"Thanks, guys."

Ace brushes it off with a shrug. "Don't mention it."

Well, that took care of the smoke. Now for some time alone, if he can manage it without looking like a total jackass.

"Okay! Good! Sanji's all moved in! Let's go eat!" Luffy exclaims, lifting his fists to the air.

"Sabo, wanna grab a bite?" Ace invites.

"Yeah, sure. Didn't have lunch yet."

The three of them head for the door and Sanji follows slowly. He begins taking off his shoes, however. He can feel Ace watching him.

"Coming?"

"I'm gonna stay here and organize all my shit. I'm not hungry anyway," Sanji explains, standing on the hardwood floor in his socks.

Before Ace or Sabo can press, Luffy says, "We'll bring him back something. Come on, I'm hungry, let's go!" Sanji catches Luffy's knowing gaze, realizing he's just done him a favour. He sends back thankful, warm eyes.

Ace glances back at his little brother, then to Sanji. "We'll bring you something. Sure."

"I have to come back anyway to clear out the rest of my books and shit," Sabo reasserts. "There's some food left in the fridge, free reign on that if you get hungry. It's all yours."

"Thanks," Sanji says, grateful.

Sabo and Luffy step outside and the door closes. Ace stays behind for a few words. "Just promise me you'll come have dinner with me tonight? So we can talk about things, if you want. I'll swing by and pick you up."

"I don't know, I'm just not in the –"

Ace's eyes are concerned as he cuts Sanji off right then and there. "Moping around by yourself isn't good for you, you know that."

"I know, Ace. I just need to be by myself right now is all. But, fine, I'll come to dinner tonight – shit," Sanji agrees, exasperated.

Ace sighs. "I'm not going to force you. You know I just – shit, you _know_, Sanji, how you are. How about this, I'll stop by around 7 and if you feel like going, we'll go. If not, at least let me stick around to talk to you."

It's a fair compromise and Sanji knows it. And even if it's annoying for the moment, he knows that Ace gets him. They've been through similar emotions; similar shit. "Fine. That sounds fine – that's good."

Ace smiles warmly. "Good. See you then."

The door closes gently and Sanji feels like he's never been so happy to be alone in his life. But he knows it'll be short-lived. Neuroticism overtakes him and wanting to feel more settled in this new home, he pads to the bedroom and immediately digs into the first box in sight. As he organizes, his thoughts are jumbled and he recalls her voice stirring up the life he's built anew, pounding back years of memories that he's left buried for a long, long time, and he soon finds that he's craving another cigarette.

He feels a terrible emptiness harrowing him out from within, and it's then that he realizes it's been way too many weeks since he last had sex.

* * *

That afternoon, Sabo finishes clearing out the rest of his books and various things, the key is handed over to Sanji and the apartment is officially turned over to him. Evening arrives and by the time it's 7, Ace is already texting Sanji that he's running a couple errands. He asks if Sanji still feels up for dinner. Sanji responds negatively, so by the time it's 8, Ace shows up at his door with some Chinese take-out.

Ace spreads it over the coffee table as Sanji gets some plates, napkins and cutlery. He's not usually one for take-out, but it's not like Sanji asked and it's only because Ace had sensed that it was one of those rare nights where cooking was out of the question.

"So how do you feel about the whole thing?" Ace asks, digging right into the heart of the matter. They're alone now, after all. They can talk freely about these things together.

"I just never expected to see her again," Sanji responds distantly, absorbing himself in the task of dishing out Ace's food.

Ace places a hand over his arm to halt him, then begins plating the food himself, telling Sanji to sit down and relax. Sanji obliges, feeling his body flush from the brief contact, gazing at Ace's solid, exposed arms as he works with the food. He always did get lost in his tattoos, the meaningful letters on his left deltoid, the intricate and striking Jolly Roger on his back, but particularly his most recent one – the black and grey flame pattern he has sleeved on his left arm. It drifts fluidly into his shoulder, chest and back and flutters at an angle near his wrist. He still can't get over how amazing Marco's skills are to have pulled off such a smoky design so beautifully. It might've been due to the intimacy of being a tattoo artist with a boyfriend for a client.

Sanji's still warm from the touch. He's never quite been able to stop this feeling that blooms when Ace touches him, but it's especially bad now, considering what they had years ago is exactly what he needs right now. This emptiness that's turning him into a shell of himself – he's desperate to fill it with something.

He's happy for Ace – the man's got a serious relationship with Marco now. Anything sexual between them tonight is completely off-limits. He has to do his best to remember that, no matter how much he's burning for it. Maybe he can go to a bar later, find a pretty girl – no, his twisted desperation tonight wouldn't do well to sully a woman. He needs a man. He needs a man soon.

"I can't believe she showed up like that. Just like that? While you were at work?" Ace asks, chowing down.

Sanji picks lightly at the noodles on his plate. "She told me she's sorry for everything. That she wants me to be her son again."

Ace seems to recognize the confliction on Sanji's face. "She lost custody over you a long time ago. She's not well, Sanji."

Sanji laughs, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with his mother at the Baratie. It'd been so surreal. "We spoke in French. I speak French with Zeff sometimes, but with her...it just felt so surreal. I remembered...everything, just by hearing her voice – talking with her like that."

"Everything?" Ace presses.

He must be doing that thing again, where he represses what he wants to say. Ace truly is the only one in this world who Sanji can open up to like this, because he's the only one who understands what this feels like. It was this sense of ease and comfort they felt around each other, this collision of two floundering outcasts, which had caused them to form such an intense bond six years ago. "Just, like...living with her when I was a kid, back in Dunkirk. The nasty smell of the water there. All the confusion. I don't know. It just brought back...a lot."

"Things you haven't thought about in a while?"

"Yeah. I mean, when we talked about this stuff back when we were still...well, fucking, I feel like I couldn't articulate myself properly, because I remembered how I felt but...I couldn't remember the memories. But when I saw her, it all came back to me," Sanji explains, frustrated. "So it's just been a fucked up week all around."

"No, I get that. I know how that feels. I never grew up with my dad, but with his reputation, so I totally get that. I had a hard time linking my memories and my issues together at the time, everything felt like one big blurry mess of negative shit – still does sometimes," Ace explains, his voice soft and mature. "Having the memories come back like that, it would be hard."

Sanji nods and puts his fork down with a clank. He leans over, elbows digging into his thighs as he runs fingers through his hair. "I feel like being here isn't right. I should be there, dealing with her. I should at least talk to her more. Zeff wouldn't let me. But—"

"Sanji, what do you owe her?"

"Owe her? She's my _mother_. Maybe I don't owe her, but I have to do _something_."

"She hasn't been your mom since you were, what, ten?"

"Nine," Sanji corrects. "And it doesn't matter – it's not legal anymore, so what? Biologically she's still my mom."

"That's true, but shit, Sanji. Listen to yourself. Remember what this woman put you through. She's not sane enough to be a mother."

Sanji looks up furiously. "All the more reason for me to help her! She needs help, I'm her son, I don't see what's wrong with involving myself with her. You and Zeff couldn't possibly understand."

"Here's what I get," Ace puts his fork down. "I get that you're overlooking the fact that she conveniently came to see her long-lost son when she needed money and a home. I get that when you saw her it probably sparked some hope in you that maybe you could make her love you—"

"I don't _care_ about any of that, Ace. I just want to do the right thing—!"

"Sanji, this is the same woman who didn't feed you right, who abandoned you – she told you that she hated you for being born. And now she wants to play the redemption game? Ha. Give me a fucking _break_," Ace spits. His voice is normally calm and low, but right now its pitch is higher. Sanji can tell he's getting upset. "Look at the grip-hold she's still got on you. You can't see why Zeff wants to protect you from her? Why I do?"

Sanji looks away, face tightening. "No, I get it, I do, but at the end of the day it's still my decision. I'm an adult now. It's not like before."

"I never said it wasn't your decision," Ace reassures calmly. "I just figured you had already made that choice – that's why you're here now, isn't it? So just...try not to backpedal. Enjoy your time away from New York, if anything. Use this time to let everything sink in and digest."

Sanji stares at Ace for a long while. He doesn't want to let it sink in. He doesn't want to fill himself with that pain. He wants, no, _needs_ something else. He combs a hand through his hair again and sighs heavily, deeply frustrated. He needs someone to touch him and the fact that it can't be Ace is really fucking maddening right now.

He breathes and picks himself back up from that little moment of panic. Taking his fork, he offers Ace a clean smile. "I'll think about it," he tells him, twirling the noodles in his fork and taking a large bite. Ace smirks, stuffing a chicken ball into his mouth. Sanji really hopes he doesn't talk with it in there, but Ace never can avoid it even when Sanji tells him it's bad manners.

Ace raises a brow and mumbles out, "You really wanna get laid right now, don't you?"

Sanji nearly spits out a mouthful of noodles and swallows them furiously to prevent it from happening. When he starts choking, Ace grins and hands him his glass of water. Sanji takes it gratefully and drinks. He soon recovers, his voice hoarse. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said." Ace laughs.

"Are you..." Sanji studies him for a moment, suspicious. Ace isn't coming on to him, is he? No, he's got a boyfriend now. Couldn't be. "You're kidding right?"

Ace laughs again, this time harder. "As much as you're a treasure, Sanji, it ain't happening. I just can tell when you're all pent up."

Sanji frowns. Well, maybe he can turn this around. "Know anyone?"

"Geez, you got it bad, huh? I guess I know a couple people – guy or girl?"

Sanji easily knows the answer to this. "A guy. Definitely a guy."

He likes sex with women, but he's admittedly obsessed with catering to their every need. The kind of woman he needs tonight would have to be an intense one – she'd have to enjoy dominating and controlling him because he could never directly ask that of her unless she was naturally into it and wanted it herself. It's simply a much rarer find. And he never can be completely...honest with a woman, always wanting to make the sex good for her, swallowing down his own requests and desires. He has sex with women because he loves them, would do anything for them and is genuinely attracted to them, but with men, things are much more honest. With men, he gets to show that other side of himself and the liberation he gains from it is nothing short of addictive. He needs that versatility in his sex life in order to maintain absolute satisfaction. Either way, deep down, he knows his blood is burning for a man right now.

Ace sighs and says resignedly, "I'll set you up..."

"Thank _fuck_. I feel like I'm gonna explode, I'm so—"

"Stop talking like that or you'll force my hand into obliterating my relationship," Ace demands light-heartedly, but Sanji does wonder if he's genuinely serious. "And I was going to say, I can set you up, but later, when you're more settled. You don't want sex for the right reasons right now."

"Oh, _fuck off,_ Ace—"

"You don't, and you know it. Plus you've got your first shift tomorrow – you should just take it easy for the night. Take a nice bath, have some wine, sprinkle some rose pedals on the bed, give yourself a nice long wank, tap into your inner woman – all that shit."

"I really fucking hate you."

"I say these things because I care about you."

"You say them because you're a fucking idiot, that's why you say them."

Ace chuckles. "Hey, hey, don't be so harsh. Oh but if you really do jerk it in Sabo's bed with rose pedals, can I be the first to tell him?"

Ace ducks as Sanji fires an unopened set of wooden chopsticks at him.

* * *

The next day, Sanji starts his first shift in the afternoon. He works until 9. They put him on the dinner shift because he's so experienced and over-qualified for this job, there's no need to take it easy on him. He likes the place. It's called Zest – Nami's sister Nojiko owns it. That's how he got his in. It's a big restaurant and bar on the pier and of course its busy season is in the summer, which is why it was no problem for him to get hired. They sell a lot of seafood here, of course, which Sanji loves – it reminds him a lot of the Baratie in New York.

He learned his way around their kitchen in the afternoon segment of his shift and so now he's on the floor for the busy dinner rush since they're short on servers and Sanji's a triple threat in cooking, serving and bartending. He finds it all too easy, the only thing that takes some getting used to is the atmosphere and the people, both the customers and his coworkers.

Usopp actually got a job here through Nami too. He's working as a dishpig and Sanji can't wait to have a shift with him so that he can channel all of his kitchen madness into him and scare the guy shitless. Usopp needs the job to help his debt along in school – puts in a dent anyway. The guy is in his sixth year of college, after all, since he completed a Bachelor's in Computer Science and then went on to study graphic design. He's in a lot of student debt, but every penny helps. Sanji's shift was actually supposed to merge with Usopp's tonight, but there was some kind of mix up with the scheduling.

The end of his first day is drawing to a close, he's got around an hour left of his shift. He's wiping a table clean when he glances to the entrance and sees a broad man with a peculiar head of short, dark green hair stroll in. The hostess is working on setting up a table herself, but the man doesn't wait for her and simply plods in to take a seat. He's wearing probably the most basic sneakers Sanji has ever seen and his legs are clad in _sweats_, worn-torn looking ones, the ratty type that should only be worn in a garbage bin at this point – seriously, absolute overkill. They've served their purpose, man, lived past their expiry date – time to give it a rest, lower the damn casket. He wrinkles his nose as he can only assume how loose the elastic on the waistband must be. Who wears _sweats_ to a restaurant, anyway?

He straightens as his befuddled rage builds. He can't see much of the guy's face from this distance, but he's got a good body. Scratch that – a _phenomenal _body. Definitely lifts. He's sporting a bland dark grey T-shirt that fits his form snugly, showing off his tanned biceps and forearms as he sets them over the table, hands clasped together. At least his upper half looks more presentable than that abysmal lower half. Hell, Sanji can't complain at the sight of those arms and hands, really. Guy's probably got a magnificent back too.

Sanji decides with an amused grin that he's going to take this table despite the fact that it's not in his quadrant. He'll swipe it and call it a favour to the server it belongs to – tip's all hers, a humble gesture of gallantry and goodwill from him on his first day. Plus, she's lovely and he's always more than happy make a woman's day easier.

As he approaches the table with a menu, his strong pace wavers for a moment, losing that purposeful stride as he gets another good look the man from the side. What is he thinking? This is his first day, for one, he should not attempt to flirt with a customer on his first day. That aside, there's also the fact that Sanji has just finished running insults in his head through the entire alphabet about this guy's very insipid, textbook _straight as an arrow_ taste in clothes – how did he overlook the significance of this before making this decision? The fucker's straight. He's totally straight and Sanji musters a weak smile as he stops in front of the table and sobers up to just how pathetically desperate he is.

But goddamn, as the guy peels his eyes away from the window and looks up at him, three golden earrings dangling with the movement, Sanji can't seem to beat down just how attracted every cell in his body feels when he looks at this man. The cool, heavy darkness of his eyes and his sharp, handsome features have Sanji parting his lips. He's tempting in a very raw kind of way.

Sanji almost stutters as he lays down the menu and greets, "Good evening, I'll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?"

"Yeah. Beer," the man says bluntly. Then he turns to look out the window again.

It's clear to Sanji now that this guy's a rude fucker – not to mention stupid. Already he can feel his blood boiling, this time not with lust. "We have a variety of beers here, sir. Anything specific?" he pushes, doing his best to say it kindly. Fucking dumbass. The man turns back to him and looks dumbstruck for a moment. Oh, he's got to be fucking kidding. Does Sanji need to start asking him for his ID? He reaches over to the centre of the table to grab the drink menu. He opens it, folds it over and places it in front of the guy with a finger skidding down the page. "Here's a list of our beer selection. I'll get you some water while you skim—"

The man abruptly folds the drink menu, nearly clipping Sanji's finger in the process, before sliding it aggressively towards Sanji. "I don't care what kinda beer. Bud, Miller – somethin' cheap."

This _asshole._ Oh, he's gonna get it for that one. Time for the brawny bird-brained fuck to get ID'ed. "Can I see your ID, sir?" The man's stony expression tightens and Sanji feels proud of himself to have bopped a dent in that annoyingly stoic demeanor.

"You're kidding right?"

Sanji can't resist cracking a wily grin. "I'm afraid not. Your ID?" The man eyes him dangerously as he digs into his pocket and despite how much Sanji wants to wring that thick neck of his, the fucker's piercing glare is stirring him up in ways he can't even begin to comprehend. He can only attribute it to the horniness. Shit, he's really going to have to shoot straight for the bar after this shift's done.

The dickwad's frown deepens, if that's even possible, as he pulls out a 20 and then checks the other pocket of his disgusting pants before coming up empty-handed. Sanji wishes he could plough one of his shoes into this moronic customer's face. Preferably with the one that stepped on the remains of a broken wine glass earlier today – might still be some small shards embedded in there somewhere.

"Wallet's in the car. Look, you gonna give me a beer or not?"

Entitled prick. "Sorry, state law says I have to check your ID. I'll let you skim over the dinner menu while I grab you a water. Feel free to run out and grab your wallet before ordering anything." The man stares up at him and squints in absolute disbelief. _Sorry, pal. Don't owe you shit, _he thinks.

Sanji says nothing more and gets one last glimpse of that irritated face before spinning on his heel. He takes special care to do a variety of low-priority tasks while juggling his other tables and pointedly snubbing the ill-mannered brute. If Sanji has to sit through a lecture or lose his job over this, he doesn't care. Asshole competitions like these are what he lives for. His fun can go on. At the very least he can't let this dick's miserable behaviour go unpunished. Everybody else in this world's got to put on a plastic face in front of others, what makes this moss-head so special? What is he, a plant living among humans?

After taking an obscenely long time to prepare the lout his water, lemon slice deliberately absent, he plonks the water down loudly at his table, earning an aggravated glare from the man. He smirks and asks, "Ready to order?"

The man slides the water back with an infuriatingly cool composure that has Sanji grinding his teeth. He states, not questions, "So you were serious about not serving me."

Oh, wow. This guy's attitude is simply priceless. Sanji is having a hard time quelling his temper – and his hunger. "Oh, I'll serve you alright – food and non-alcoholic beverages." The man releases an audible scoff as he glares daggers with those dark eyes – dark eyes which are shooting liquid fire straight through Sanji's veins. Jesus, he wants this man to fuck him. "Problem with that?" Sanji prods with a right brow raised.

The man doesn't relinquish his stare as he slowly slides the menu over to himself. Then he turns his eyes down to the menu and actually has the audacity to wave Sanji off. He's just _shooed_ him. Sanji can do nothing but scoff and leave. His next little visit to this table just _might_ be more delayed than the last. But as he works, he can't avoid making small checks on the guy from afar.

God fucking dammit.

He doesn't know what it is that he loves about men who challenge him, but it always, always gets him hot. It really is such a shame that this guy is so painfully straight. Hobo-sweats aside, he's absolute eye candy for Sanji, that physique the perfect embodiment of what he craves to be under.

Fuck. He's going to get him a beer on the house. He's really going to do it. And his sexual frustration is totally at fault – but fuck it. He can take an earful; he can get a new job. He's got no attachment or roots to this temporary little stint, anyway. Restaurants are eternally hiring for men of his experience and calibre. This job is way under him as it is. He doesn't give a shit.

As he fills a pint with Guinness stout, he looks up from the tap and notices the man now has his cell plugged into the wall and appears to be checking his messages. Perfect, he'll catch him by surprise. He cuts the tap, that white froth perfectly thick and level at the top of the glass. Fuck, this isn't going to work and he's beyond stupid for trying...but he has to try. Whoever he's destined to pick up at the bar tonight will be subpar at best, they usually are. There's something about this prick he's serving that has him utterly desperate to make a move.

If on the off-chance he's one of those gays who behaves deceptively straight, it'll be worth his while. He needs to coax it out of him. Show some 'hospitality'.

Sanji needs to do this _just_ right. He saunters up to the table as gracefully as he can, more than what's already typical of his gait. This time, he gently puts the glass down on a coaster. The man spares him a quick, disinterested glance before doing a double take, eyes widening slightly at the molasses-hued beer in front of him.

"What happened to state law?" the man questions, his expression visibly softer. He must be amused, intrigued – seems to be, anyway. This is a good sign.

Here goes. Sanji leans into the table, hand poised on the surface, and cocks his head to the side with a soft, inviting smirk. His expression is warm as he lets the words roll off his tongue, "I'm not very good at following rules. It's on the house." _And by that I mean straight out of my wallet so I don't get canned,_ he finishes silently.

Sanji inwardly pleads for a positive reaction and lets his mind cheer when he gets it – the man gives him curious, enticing eyes as he grasps the beer and slides it towards himself. He smirks, and Sanji swallows thickly at the sight. His smile is so...rugged. Edgy.

"Interesting change of heart," the man comments, his brows perking up as he lifts the glass to his mouth, keeping his eyes stagnant and locked on Sanji. His heart is pounding. _Now_ he's getting the vibes he needs. He knows he needs to keep pushing this. This guy might be more curious and open to suggestion than Sanji'd initially thought.

He reaches over and gently taps his hand on the folded menu, taunting the man with his pose and waiting for a reaction. "Ready to place an order?" he inquires softly. Sanji watches as the gears seem to be turning in the man's head and his eyes linger on the blond's body, following that slim form back as Sanji drags the menu with him to the front end of the table. He keeps his hand over it lightly, fingers spread like a spider's web waiting to ensnare its prey, and keeps his stance loose and inviting.

As the man takes another sip of his beer with that attractive grin and those astute eyes staring him back, Sanji can't fucking believe this is actually working, but it's utter bliss to him that it is. Yeah. The man has grasped the situation – and he wants it.

"Nah, think just the beer'll do," he says, and then cuts straight to the chase. "Shift ending soon?"

Game, set and match.

No reason to be coy now. Sanji smiles, eyes half-lidded and seductive. "Yup, 'nother half hour. Why? Wanna grab a drink?"

The man chuckles softly, very terse and teasing. "Oh we're not getting drinks."

Jesus. He doesn't even know how to respond to that, he's so taken aback by how vigorously his appetite is being stirred by that line. He loves the blunt intensity of this man – he doesn't waste time and Sanji's positively taken in by it. The gods have surely looked down upon him and smiled today. "Perfect. I'll be done soon. Sure you don't want anything else while you wait?"

The man puts his beer down on the coaster. It's already almost half empty. "Yup."

Sanji grins and nimbly leans over the table to swipe the empty water glass, teasing with the slender silhouette of his torso. He doesn't say a word, just speaks with his eyes as he straightens and walks off to attend to a party of three that he hasn't checked up on in far too long.

Did he really just pick up this walking, talking, arrow-straight cliché at work on his _first day?_ His skills are superhuman.

The remainder of his shift goes by brutally fucking slow if he's being completely honest. He's doing all that he can to not pop a boner every time he walks past his future hookup's table and catches his lustful gaze. But all shifts come to an end, and finally at 9, he's walking across the street with Sir Hobo Pants. He's relieved that the air this man is exuding is calm and collected – the guy's experienced, knows what he wants, just like Sanji himself. He thinks they're going to have a very seamless arrangement here. Quick, straightforward and satisfying. Just how he likes it.

He can't wait to finally have this hollow void satiated. It's been nagging at him all day and all night for much too long.

Sanji is staring lustfully at the man's back when the object of his gaze stops in front of a small, battered black car. Looks like a Chevy, an older model from a decade ago or more. It's a piece of shit either way – black paint's chipped in countless spots, the metal is dented and warped, rust is spreading from underneath. Well, at least the licence plates are still intact. So it's technically legal even when it probably shouldn't be. Sanji connects the dots as the green-haired man opens the door. This is his car, isn't it.

This is _not_ his fucking car.

He doesn't move around to the passenger's seat. "This is your car?"

"Yup."

"That thing?"

"Uh huh."

Sanji is quiet for a beat. "It's a piece of shit."

The man turns to him, looking offended. "Look, it's my car. I'll call it a piece of shit if it's a piece of shit."

Sanji gives him a snide glare. "And it is. I am not getting in that."

A perplexed look sprouts on the man's face. "Then don't. It's a free country." Sanji is silent, and that's when the man's confused expression deepens as he leans over the roof of the car and stares. "We fucking or not?"

Oh, fuck. What the hell is he getting all fussy over a shitty car for? "Goddammit..." he mumbles and makes his way for the passenger's side door. It creaks horrendously as it opens, making every cell in his body cringe. He has to remind himself that he's practically got a scope attached to his eye from how skilled he is at pinpointing who's a good lay and who isn't. This will be worth it. It's not like he's in a position to be picky anyway – he just needs a good fuck.

The car's stale odor is shabbily disguised by a tree-shaped car freshener dangling from the front mirror which seems to have long exceeded its expiry date. The door closes beside him and the man jams the key in and revs the engine. The car rattles a bit as it starts up and Sanji crosses his left leg over his right – he's tingling, feeling the beginning of a hard-on fast approaching. He'd been suppressing it too long with the sure-fire prospect of sex on his mind at work.

It's only been a couple of weeks and he's this fired up. Sometimes Sanji worries that he doesn't know the meaning of self-control, but he just can't fucking help it when he needs someone to touch him this badly.

"So where we headed?" Sanji asks, breaking the cold silence as they drive out onto the street.

"My place," responds the man.

"Where's that?"

"Not far. Can see the building after we take this turn," he explains. Sanji hums and nods, following the man's finger as he points to a tall, distant building soon after they turn onto another street. "That one."

They're quiet after that. It won't be far, no need to make useless conversation. They both know what this is. If Sanji's lucky, he'll solidify a fuck buddy for the summer, but that all depends on how good the sex is. For now, nothing they do has to mean a damn thing. Besides, as if he can organize proper thoughts in his head when his dick's getting this hard. At first he's embarrassed about this stranger noticing, but then he remembers it's pointless to care, so he shamelessly adjusts himself against the waistband of his workpants to avoid awkward situations after they arrive.

He realizes he's going to have to take the quickest shower of his life when he gets there.

The man seems to notice Sanji's shuffling as they pull into a driveway. "Been a while?" he asks with a smug grin and a tickled glance.

Sanji huffs. What gall. He's going to enjoy that brazen attitude in bed moments from now, and to hopefully see it crumble, too. "Just one of those days."

"Almost couldn't believe it when you started tossing hints at me," the man reflects. "Always heard of people hitting on waiters but waiters hitting on customers?"

"Like I said, just one of those fucking days."

This silences him. They park and Sanji follows the man to the staircase which leads them to the ground floor. Walking in his condition is frustrating as fuck, but he does well to pull off a natural gait. The elevator ride is excruciating. The guy lives on one of the upper floors, of fucking course.

Finally they're entering his unit and the thin rope that is Sanji's patience snaps as he jumps on the man before the door's even closed. He kisses him fervently, the door creaking as it hovers in limbo and Sanji kicks it closed from behind. He pants heavily as they break momentarily, then he dives in again. He's beginning to corner the broader man into the wall of what he assumes to be the apartment's small foyer when he's pushed to the opposite wall and pinned there. He's rattled and a bit dazed from the sheer force of it. Oh, jesus fuck. This is going to be good.

He curses the fact that he still needs to shower. But, he can make this a mutual thing – personal hygiene is important for them both, especially with such a random hook up.

He turns his head away to speak, the taste of the man sensuously lingering on his lips. "I need to clean up – reek of seafood and vinegar." He licks the man's ear, sucks and tugs on one of the long gold pendants with his teeth, feels the man shudder slightly, and suggests huskily, "Wanna join me?"

In response, the man sucks in a deep intake of air and grinds against Sanji's erection. Sanji groans and takes the action, and the stiffness, as a hearty yes. Sanji is led to the bathroom which is connected to the bedroom. It's small, but it's functional, and that's all that matters right now. He turns on the water, strips out of his black work clothes, and lets the green-haired man ogle his slender body, as well as his swelling member. He charms the man with a smirk and then steps into the rain, letting the warm water wash away his day and replenish him for what's to come.

Sanji playfully closes the curtains, deliberately enticing, and isn't shocked at all when seconds later they're ripped open again and the man's body joins him. Sanji's lips part and he's no doubt got the eyes of a starving animal as he scans that powerful body over. The first thing he notices is the massive scar that cleaves his torso – it's brutal, but beautiful. Sanji's magnetized to it, wants to know how such a savage scar came to be upon his body. He's like a sculpture, his muscles look as solid as stone, his tan natural and peppered with several scars and flaws. And he knew this guy would look unreal down there minus the repugnant sweats. His dick looks like it won't disappoint in giving his ass a pounding.

The green-haired man pushes him against the tile and presses himself fully against Sanji. The contact is searing Sanji alive. He needs it so bad – been needing it like nothing else. He wraps his arms around the man's shoulders and licks his mouth, biting his lip as he leads the stranger's head with him back to the wall. He wants to be kissed so viciously it grooves a hole in the tile. The man kisses him so furiously hard Sanji literally struggles to keep his head straight.

A strong grip's on his cock now, making Sanji moan into the mouth of the man, and the rough pumping action has him squirming. Another hand's sliding up his ass and settling on his lower back, keeping them pressed firmly against each other. It's a firm hold – the man's strong and that alone makes him want to come right here and now.

They're wet and hot in the sultry environment of the shower and Sanji is already certain he's going to come before they get to the bed. No matter. He recharges easy. And he won't be needing a hard cock for what this man is going to do to him.

Sanji's breathing picks up when the man plants his mouth on his neck, teasing him with teeth and tongue and slime and heat. He feels the weight of the man's cock on his thigh and reaches for it, but his wrist is grabbed and pinned to the tile. The guy's holding out – doesn't want to come just yet.

The man grabs a bottle of body wash and squirts a large amount in his hand. He begins smoothing it all over Sanji's body. His palms and fingers groove into Sanji's tense muscles and he can feel them melting with each caress. He slicks the lotion over Sanji's aching erection and squeezes it with that irresistibly strong grip, aggressively sliding back and forth. Sanji pants heavily, edging the release that's upon him, running away with the tremors under his skin. He groans and lets the air escape his lungs in shuddery gasps as he comes. The water raining down on them washes it away in seconds.

His body slumps and he keeps his eyes closed, panting with relief. _Shit, _he'd needed that. And he's going to need a fuck ton more. He needs to be filled, because while his body's been satiated, that emptiness in his core is still desperately wailing.

Curiously, after Sanji's finished, the man backs off and focuses on scrubbing himself. Sanji stares at his thick cock – engorged with need and desperation, he'd assume, but the green-haired man is totally at ease as he cleans himself, then rinses off. Intrigued by such impressive self-control, Sanji gets to work on smoothing the soap over his skin as well, and the man gives him an attractive grin as he steps out and grabs a towel. Sanji catches a glimpse of dark eyes staring at him with devastating appetite before the curtains close and he's certain now that his recharge won't take long at all.

Sanji tries to be as quick as possible as he cleans himself thoroughly and meticulously. He wants to look and smell and feel like the best lay of this guy's life.

He towel dries himself off quickly and wipes the condensation off the mirror, reassuring himself of his sexy appearance. He's flushed, damp and tousled – perfect. He fixes his hair a little before stepping out into the darkness of the bedroom where he's sure the man is waiting. He catches a dark figure sitting on the bed. As he approaches stark naked, he realizes the man is putting on a condom, with a bottle of lube resting by his thigh. Thank fuck he didn't have to ask. He prepped a bit in the shower, but it's not typically enough.

He doesn't hesitate, hovering over the man with one foot pressed to the bed, his legs trapping his partner in. Pressing his chest, he leads him back onto the bed and straddles him, smoothing his hands over those rock solid abs. He slinks down like a snake to the man's erection and gives it a teasing lick. A short, heavy breath from ahead confirms the man's pleasure. He kisses the tip and sucks, relishing in the way it's making the man's legs wander and groove into the sheets.

Sanji doesn't blow him long before he's abruptly knocked to his side, one arm locked to the mattress and rough fingers encircling his neck, pinning him cold. He releases a hefty, excited breath and his heart pounds as the man leans in close, ghosting over his lips.

"I like to top," he says quietly – serenely. Deadly calm.

The words make Sanji writhe a bit under this perfect man's potent form. He's rapturously beguiled as he cleaves his cheeks with a crooked grin. "I like to be forced to bottom," he sings lowly, seductively.

The stoic stronghold that surrounds this man seems to crumble slightly as he licks his lips with a long, carnal exhale rumbling from within, eyes focused in on Sanji's neck. Sanji can tell he wants him bad, and the painful chasm in his chest is beginning to thread and mend over. He can feel the man's firm cock twitch by his pelvis, and then Sanji brings his free hand up to wrap it around the wrist of the hand pressed against his throat.

He caresses those fingers which trap him, wanting to be ravaged by this man's incredible strength. He balances on the edge of his power, that hand tensing, testing, as if struggling to decide whether or not to snap Sanji's neck in half. He can feel a tingling warmth spreading through his cock, enlivening it once more. The natural chemistry between them is devastatingly powerful.

Then, he demands softly, "Squeeze." He wants to feel that power for all it's worth, slithering into his core, filling him anew.

He can faintly see the man's mouth tighten, and suddenly his trapped arm is freed. The man reaches behind for something and releases Sanji's neck for a moment as he scoops out some lube onto his fingers. The wait is mere seconds but it is excruciating and he breathes out harshly as his neck is grabbed again, rough and biting, the force of it pulsating through him like electricity. As two slick fingers enter him, the ones at his neck _squeeze_, and suddenly his air is constricted. His shallow pants are quiet as large fingers twist inside him, making him writhe in pleasure.

Three fingers now, and his cock is rock hard. The man manages to stroke him where it matters and Sanji rolls his hips into the touch, wanting more. _Fuck me, _he wants to say, but his air's now completely cut off. He basks in the deprivation, the denial, then gasps when the man releases. He's desperate to say the words, but his breaths are cut short again with another firm squeeze, its precision astounding him as he squirms and rocks himself in and out of the man's fingers.

Blackness bleeds and skims his vision before he's released again. He draws in a deep, desperate gasp this time and frantically moves to grab the man's wrist, imploring him to wait. "Fuck me," he pants, feeling relieved to have gotten the demand out. "Hard."

_Please, oh my god, hurt me, fuck me, fill me._ He needs it so bad. Can't remember the last time he's needed it this bad. The void is screaming for it, threatening to drown him in blackness if he doesn't get it now.

He doesn't get a chance to collect himself or study the shadowed face above him as the man positions himself and wastes no time. With one solid thrust, that thick heat is fully inside, scorching him from within, filling him anew, and he shakes with gratifying pleasure.

The man pounds into him hard and fast, grunting with every thrust, aiming for his sweet spot and hitting it rhythmically. As Sanji moves to grab a hold of something – anything – his neck is locked in place against the bed and his air is once again constricted, then cut. The juxtaposition of this man fucking him and strangling him is so much all at once that Sanji would shout if not for that crushing grip on his neck. It's rare that he feels a contradictory pleasure as intense and beautiful as this, but he's always sought it out. Being broken and mended simultaneously – he doesn't think any man has perfected it as raw as this.

The grip releases and he breathes, the void closing in on him, chasing him, and he's skimming this feeling, this primal fear. When that heat draws back something menacing looms, and when it thrusts in he's safe again – full, satisfied, relieved, soothed. It could easily drive him to the peak of insanity at this man's whim.

There's a small break and Sanji takes that chance to readjust himself, crawling over onto his stomach. The man is quick to mount him, no doubt ecstatic about the position change. His heat rams into him again and Sanji folds his arms in front of him and leans his forehead there, moaning, his eyes shut tight as he wants to bask in this feeling alone. Only this feeling. He takes all he can get and sex is what gives it to him, so he savours all that he can. Anything.

Sanji is so lost in this feeling, his usually observant nature doesn't even register that the man's about to come. Sanji's close, too. He strokes himself earnestly as he moves and synchronizes with the thrusts, an unstoppable pressure building and building, surging in his loins. His breaths are ragged as he comes, aiming at his front to be considerate of the sheets. The man has finished as well but is still fucking him lightly, coming down from his release, his breaths rough and ragged.

Sanji feels nothing but light and euphoric. The unease that comes with a lack of sex has now dissipated, and goddamn, he was right about this guy being a good lay. He turns around when he hears the bed creak and feels the weight of the other's body leave it. Panting softly, he watches as the man slides off the condom and enters the bathroom. With the light on and the door open, Sanji can see that his tanned skin is gleaming. When he comes back, Sanji is handed some tissues hastily.

"Thanks," Sanji says, accepting them and wiping down his chest and stomach.

The man doesn't say a word and simply crashes on the bed stomach first, snuggling into the pillow, and appears to fall asleep in moments. It's when Sanji hears snoring that he looks around for a garbage can and figures his best bet is the bathroom. After throwing out the used tissues, Sanji lays back and curls up into bed, asleep immediately after he's completely comfortable.

* * *

When Sanji awakes, he has no idea what time it is and forgets for a moment where he is. It's dark in this room save for the muted moonlight coming in from the window. There's a hot form behind him snoring, and it takes Sanji several minutes before he lazily lifts himself up. He's thirsty as fuck, has a wretched taste in his mouth, is in dire need of a piss and wants to know the time. Phone's probably in the bathroom with his clothes, if he recalls. Maybe he can find some mouthwash or something in there too, and certainly a toilet.

He steps into the bathroom and shuts the door. After taking care of most of his needs, Sanji finds his phone in the back pocket of his pants on the floor. He changes back into his work clothes, which still exude the lingering scent of food, and steps out of the bathroom. The man is still snoring and images of their bodies pressed together flash by in Sanji's mind. It'd been good. It'd been damn good. Little cold and unemotional for his tastes, but he can't be picky with a quick fix hookup. He likes the honest, no-nonsense tone of the man, though he can tell it would get infuriating when overexposed to it.

New task – go to the kitchen for some water and find some paper and a pen. He wades his way through the darkness in this unfamiliar apartment but finally reaches a more open space. He feels his way along the walls for a light switch, anything, and when he finds one, he turns it on. It's the one for the foyer, but it lights up the apartment more than enough for him to see where he's going. He spots the kitchen in an instant and doesn't waste a second.

After rifling around the cupboards for a glass, he fills it up at the tap and drinks eagerly. Then he searches around some more through the drawers, finding nothing but a pen. But he remembers that he slipped the receipt for the beer he'd purchased last night in his front pocket and proceeds to hunt for it. He pulls it out, unfolds it, lays it out flat on the counter and writes his number on the blank side of it. He purses his lips, considering writing his name underneath, but remembers he has an affinity for being a bit of a mystery fuck and decides the number is enough.

He leaves it there on the counter. The man will surely see it there, but to be absolutely sure Sanji takes it upon himself to clear off the chaotic mess of garbage and empty take-out containers cluttering up the space. Hard not to see it now that the counter's bare, for the most part.

Deciding he's stared at the little paper enough, Sanji is satisfied to leave. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and begins searching for a cab number. He doesn't know the address of this place, but once he's on the streets he'll figure it out.

Sanji leaves the apartment briskly and meanders in the hallway in search of the elevator. As he does so, he smiles as he again recalls the sex, how they meshed and played off each other's desires. How fulfilled it all made him feel. He's just pressing the button to call a lift to this floor when he realizes that he genuinely hopes he gets a call or a text from the man. He thinks he's just found his fuck buddy for the summer.

* * *

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Sorry for the wait - well I guess this is pretty quick for me actually.

* * *

The Little Deaths

Chapter 2

"All in your mind's a humdrum drone"

* * *

Startled awake by his own snort, Zoro breathes in deeply as he lifts his head. He wipes the drool from his cheek with the back of his hand and blearily looks around in the morning light for his phone. Not on the bed, not under the pillows, not buried in the covers or on the night table. He never did have much of a standard location for it while he slept, but he usually leaves it within arm's reach. His body shifts as he hunts for it, wanting to know the time, and the movements remind him that he's completely naked.

Oh, yeah. The hot blond waiter.

That would explain why his phone's not close by, not to mention why his body's still melting into his bed. Post-sex euphoria always does feel pretty good on his tense muscles, especially since he doesn't indulge in it all that often by most people's standards.

Which leads Zoro to wonder as he sits up on the bed, swinging his legs over, why the hell he'd been so quick to bang the blond waiter. The guy had practically been begging for it with how furiously he'd flirted, but it wasn't as though Zoro hadn't been handed sex on a silver platter before. He outright refuses when he's not into it, which is usually the case. Random hook-ups really aren't his thing; they're too self-indulgent, desperate and quite frankly weird as hell in his experience.

He prefers the classic friends with benefits arrangement, ideally with someone he can trust to keep feelings far-removed and out of the mix. And to Zoro, trust is everything, he'd much rather satisfy the odd need with somebody he knows than a complete stranger. Sometimes it can get messy, and it has in the past by no fault of his, but it's much more convenient and straightforward as long as rules are explicitly set out from the get-go.

He supposes he's got the advantage of a low-maintenance sex drive. He's well aware there are people out there who crave a good lay like nothing else – the Tinder addicts, the sex-hounds at bars – and he doesn't judge for that. Like he gives a shit how often people dive under the sheets, but it's simply not his lifestyle. He doesn't need to readjust his life for sex. He's got more self-control than that, even when the desire's very real and very pressing. Zoro fucks when _he_ wants to, when the moment is right, and he doesn't let his dick decide that for him.

And so hooking up with the waiter could definitely be classified as a freak event for him. Very, very rarely does Zoro do this. Maybe he'd been more pent up than expected – his current buddy's been out of town for months on end after all. And the attitude the waiter had given while serving him, the little mind games he'd played, Zoro can admit as annoying as that kind of behaviour is, it's weirdly a turn on for him. He likes a challenge.

Doesn't matter, it's over and done with now, and the blond no doubt must be gone. On that note, he's thankful that he doesn't smell breakfast.

He finds his phone on the bathroom counter. He's relieved to see that he still has an hour to prep for work. Doesn't take him that long to get ready but the leeway time is certainly comfortable. He takes a quick shower to clean off and wake up. Can't help the flash images of what he'd done to the waiter in here last night, then later in his bed. The guy'd certainly been an interesting lay – kinky fucker, wanting to be choked like that. He can't really complain, it's a kink of his as well, and it's rare to find a partner who can handle Zoro at his most intense. That's partly why he prefers to pick his partners carefully. Good way to avoid inconvenient surprises as well as pursue mutual desires in one fell swoop.

He does wonder if the guy had left with some nasty bruises on his neck, though. If so, he'd asked for it. Literally.

Zoro dries himself off after his shower, wrapping the towel around his neck. He steps over to the sink, brushes his teeth, then lathers his face for a quick shave. He finishes patting the after-shave onto his jaw and cheeks and steps out into his bedroom to nonchalantly grab some clothes dangling off his dresser. He changes into plain jeans and a white T, puts his phone in his back pocket and steps out, heading for the kitchen to get some much needed grub.

First thing he does is take out a carton of orange juice from the fridge, pouring himself a glass. The carton's now empty and he throws it behind onto the counter, so used to the routine that he doesn't even have to look or aim. He destroys the juice in three large gulps before leaning over the door of the fridge, weighing out his breakfast options. There aren't many. Eggs and toast it is with several apples and bananas for the road.

He turns on the stove and reaches into the bottom cabinet for a pan, and it's only when he straightens back up that he realizes his usual mess on the counter is gone. What the fuck? So that's why the juice carton had clambered so freely before. When he spots the paper resting in the centre of the counter, he drags it over and reads the digits, and that's when he puts two and two together.

Stupid waiter had cleared the shit off his space and left his number. Zoro releases a short amused breath through his nose. He's not going to call. It's nothing against the man – he's gorgeous as all hell and they seemed to have a genuine sexual chemistry, innate even, but he strikes Zoro as the sex fiend type. Couldn't even manage to hold back his boner in the car ride over. Definitely not compatible and usually more trouble than they're worth. Plus Zoro doesn't know the guy and equally doesn't intend to go out of his way to get to know him.

It'd just been a random fuck, he'll happily leave it at that. Already out of character enough as it stood, calling the man would be absurd. He flips the receipt over to its front and studies the price of the beer before mentally thanking the waiter for it. He can only hope that he'd satisfied him enough in bed to make them even. Then he crumples the receipt and throws it on the counter that is his temporary garbage bin, planning to toss it out later.

Zoro sloppily prepares his food and leaves the dirty pan in the sink. He eats quickly and puts his fruit in a plastic bag before grabbing his car keys, tying his shoes and locking the door behind him. With a crunch, he sticks an apple in his mouth as he makes his way towards the elevator. It arrives for him in little time and he steps inside. The doors close, the elevator sinks and his thoughts go back to last night.

It suddenly comes to him that if Usopp ever asks him to be picked up from work again, he runs the risk of finding the blond waiter there. Might be best to avoid that particular scenario and stick to waiting in his car. Usually he wouldn't give a shit – he never finds situations like those awkward in the least. But he doesn't like the way his inflexible control had bent for this man. It's not a comfortable feeling being distorted like that. Best to steer clear of him.

When he makes it to his car, he does a quick scan of the backseat as he gets inside. He spots his steel toe work boots, his orange hardhat and his safety vest – everything's there. He tosses the plastic bag full of fruit on the passenger's seat, closes the door and revs up the engine. Then he's off.

* * *

"Hey, Zoro," Luffy calls as he puts down his concrete gun and readjusts his work gloves. "You haven't met my friend Sanji yet, have you?"

Leaning over, Zoro fires his gun into the bottom of the steel frame before straightening, pausing to wipe his brow and look over at Luffy. "Your friend from New York, right? Nah." He watches as Luffy's smile spreads, outright competing with the sun as usual. And today is damn sunny.

"He's a funny guy, think you'd like him. You gotta try his food, it's _so good_," Luffy says, looking like he's about ready to eat the gun he's picking back up. "Anyway he's in town now. We should all hang out."

Zoro shrugs and nods as he bends down again to bang the corner of the frame and it grinds as it shifts, resounding metallically. He tugs the frame back and shoulders into it, locking it in place. He shoots Luffy a communicative stare and Luffy nods, squatting with his gun poised and then he shoots, reinforcing the metal. Zoro shakes and pushes the frame, it challenges him with a sturdy response and he's satisfied it's not going anywhere.

It's only after Zoro walks off to help his coworkers lift another frame and set it up that he notices Luffy doesn't follow. He's run off to talk to Ace, one of the white hats on this large-scale project. Ace has been working in this company for years and got the promotion not long ago. It's their foster mom's company, after all, Dadan's. Zoro doesn't really know if that made any difference – still took the poor guy a while to get promoted, the lady's kind of a crusty bitch. Luffy's been fired and rehired by her at least ten times by now, and Zoro doesn't even bother keeping track of the suspensions. Can't really blame Dadan for it – the guy is a walking safety hazard. It's amazing that he hasn't screwed up so badly that even his mommy boss couldn't rehire him.

Dadan's company has been contracted for some new condominium building. The site is huge, the work is pretty tedious, the hours are long, but it's good exercise. It pays the bills. Sometimes it fills his bank account nicely too, depending on the project and how dangerous it is. Condos and high-rises are always pretty hazardous, especially as progress is made, so this project is going to feed his wallet well.

His lunch break arrives quicker than he expects – he tends to lose track of time when he works at a repetitive humdrum like this. Reminds him a lot of his weight training, which is why this work satisfies both his mind and his body. He goes off-site to grab a bite with Luffy and Ace as usual. They've all been working together like this for years now, everything is routine for them. Today they take Ace's car – a slick Acura with a deep red coat and tinted windows – and grab some foot-longs.

Luffy's talking about Usopp's new pet tarantula as they're chowing down on the sandwiches close by the construction site. Luffy lives with Usopp in a cheap apartment in a student area of the city. Ace rents a townhouse with his boyfriend Marco in a good part of the city – not for rich folk, but definitely a cozy area.

"Yeah," Luffy muffles through a mouthful. "She's so grossed out by Betsy she doesn't wanna come over anymore. Usopp's kinda wondering if he should get rid of her. I just think Nami needs to get used to her!"

"You know how she is with bugs," Zoro reminds, side glancing Luffy before taking a massive bite.

Ace hums, leaning back and ruffling his hair as he lets the warm sunrays seep into his skin. "Shouldn't be any trouble. Can't imagine him choosing a spider over Nami. He's got such a massive crush on her. Any luck on that lately, Luffy?"

"Dunno. Don't pay attention really. Been going into his room with her lots more lately I guess," Luffy ponders with a shrug.

"Ooh, maybe she's finally coming around," Ace speculates, whistling lowly. "Sanji swung by your place yet?" he asks with an impish smirk. Zoro catches it and waits in silence for there to be an explanation.

"Nah, not yet. Why?"

"No reason. Think maybe he'd like Usopp's pet," Ace said, his tone forcedly merry.

"_Oooh!_" Luffy bursts, gears clicking, laughing heartedly at the implication. "He _hates_ bugs! I forgot about that! Oh I gotta get him to my place ASAP!"

Finally, Zoro speaks up in a bored tone. "Sounds like a moron."

"Oh, yeah, you never did meet Sanji, did you?" Ace reflects.

Zoro crumples up the paper from his sub and sticks it into the plastic bag it came in. "Nope," he confirms.

"Hey yeah, I met Sanji when you were in the hospital after fighting with that gothic freak," Luffy pipes in. "Remember Zoro? You got your huge scar from that." He laughs.

Zoro stiffens with a dull expression when Luffy pounds on his chest repeatedly. "How could I forget, idiot! Stop doin' that," he grouses, slapping Luffy's hand away.

"It's kind of crazy you haven't met him after all these years," says Ace.

Zoro shrugs. "Guy didn't live in Boston till now, what's so crazy about it."

"Six years is a long time to not meet one of Luffy's buddies. And New York's not far," Ace supplies. "I guess he never did make much of an effort to visit us here, anyway. We went there mostly."

Zoro scratches behind his ear, eyes shut as he affirms, "Well there you go."

Living a city apart is never something to be underestimated. Even if it's not much, it's still distance. Plus Zoro's never much liked New York anyway. It's far too hustle-bustle for him, one big stinking mass of lunatics, tight squeezes and a stifling population. But in general Zoro isn't a fan of city living – he's much more suited for the countryside. New York may be too much bullshit for him but Boston isn't much better with their stupid pride. A city's a goddamn city and if he's gotta settle for one of these shit piles of society he prefers one where he walk without sticking to people and afford an apartment that he can actually fit inside of.

So honestly he probably would have met this Sanji guy if Luffy had pushed it more, but Zoro has made it pretty clear how much he hates being in that horrendous city. Any time Luffy had planned to go and wanted to take him with, Zoro would grouse and eventually Luffy would shrug and let it go. And if Luffy's friend had ever come to Boston to visit, Zoro must've been busy doing something else.

Doesn't matter, really. Zoro could care less. But he knows this shit's important to Luffy and he's probably in for an introduction to this friend of his soon.

"Robin and Franky haven't met him yet either," Luffy chimes in again, licking his fingers free of the absurd mishmash of sauces he always orders on his subs. "I hope he stays. He's the only one I met on that trip that didn't end up living here."

Ace grins. "You did gather quite the crowd when you hit the road back then. I always tried to get him to move here but he said being in New York was close enough and he had responsibilities and shit. You know him – stubborn till the end."

Zoro picks at something wedged in his teeth, probably some gristle from the meat. He speaks through his fingers, "Why the sudden move now?"

Ace stares off into the sky, eyes solemn. "He's going through a rough time at home. Needed a change of scenery."

Zoro picks up on the heavy vibe filling the air, tight and constrictive despite the open space surrounding them. He doesn't touch that with a ten foot pole. Knows Ace had some kind of relationship with this guy too, if he recalls, before he'd met Marco. He remembers Luffy used to mention it sometimes, while Ace was doing his living stint in New York and was still banging the dude, presumably. Doesn't know much more than that.

"Anyway," Ace says with a grunt as he stands. "Break's over."

"Okay, _boss_," Luffy pesters with a grin, nudging Zoro. "Whatever you say!"

Zoro smirks and joins in on the taunts. It's what they've done since Ace got the promotion. He flings his plastic bag stuffed with garbage at Ace, who slaps it away haphazardly. "Gonna write me up for assault, boss man?"

Ace patiently lifts his hands behind his head and twines his fingers together, strolling up to Zoro and giving one of his boots a light kick. "Not assault. Disrespectful conduct maybe," he calmly teases before beckoning, "Come on, let's go."

Really, Ace is a pretty chill supervisor. He doesn't get mad when they do something stupid or dangerous, unless it's outrageous. He cuts Zoro some slack whenever his GPS unit fucks up and he's late in the morning. He usually lets everyone clock out a bit early when he can, too. He pacifies Dadan when she gets heated up at them for whatever reason – usually Luffy's fault. On Fridays he buys pizza for everyone. Ace is a nice guy who just wants his team to feel like a part of the family. But he definitely has his stern moments, especially when the safety of his men is jeopardized.

Zoro mostly sticks to himself at work. Listens to Luffy's nonsense whenever they're working together, discusses work plans with Ace when he needs to be filled in, communicates with the other guys when necessary, but otherwise stays in the solitary refuge of his mind.

Luffy manages to knock over a steel frame and almost gets himself pinned under it if not for Zoro catching it and holding it steady. It's in these kinds of situations that he's proud of his training and the immense strength he's garnered from it. Not that Luffy couldn't do the same, the idiot's stronger than he looks, but he's such a klutz sometimes.

Ace frets and Dadan happens to be on site today to hear the commotion. She comes out to flip her shit as per usual. No suspensions today. Everybody's fine and no one's bones have been crushed, and so other than that little blip, the day goes by smoothly.

By the time they're ready to clock out, Luffy's already inviting Zoro over to his place. They don't live far from one another – twenty minute walk, five minute drive in good traffic – and so Zoro agrees to come over. He usually just sits there with a beer while Usopp and Luffy smoke weed and play video games or watch movies. Nami's there a lot, got that thing with Usopp or whatever, and she's usually Zoro's beer buddy. Girl sure can drink a lot and hold it well for such a skinny little thing. She indulges in smoking with the boys from time to time too. Sometimes Chopper's there. Kid usually ends up studying in Usopp's bedroom though.

He goes home first to put on fresher clothes and wash the dust from his body. He doesn't care much about being perfectly cleanly but construction work is dirty and it's uncomfortable to sit in that filth after working in it.

After Zoro's washed the stress and grime off his body, he dresses and heads out to Luffy's, planning to do some reps when he gets back home. All in a day's work.

* * *

The little sack things are approaching a gap and the one with the straw hat stops, waits for the one with the pirate hat, then slaps it off the cliff. The pirate sack person plummets and gets fried on the electrical platform below.

"_Luffy!"_ Usopp screams at him. "Stop doing that!"

Luffy's on the floor holding his stomach, laughing so hard Zoro's not sure if he'll puke or what. "Did you see that Zoro? Nami? That was a good one hahaha!"

"That _was_ a good one," Zoro remarks with a smirk, planting his feet on the footstool and leaning back into his chair with a freshly opened beer. This shitty old armchair is his official spot when they hang out in Luffy and Usopp's pad. He likes having his own space like this.

"You guys are never gonna get through this level if you keep doing that, Luffy," Nami comments, tone giving away her slight annoyance.

A beer in hand, Nami's sitting on the loveseat with Usopp, feet planted up on the pillow on his lap. Usopp's got the controller resting on her shins, leaning forward as he engages and fumes over what Luffy's just done to him in Little Big Planet. Luffy's still laughing on the floor in front of the TV as he rolls over, crawls and reaches for his bong close by. He digs into his pocket, pulls out a lighter and sets it ablaze. Bubbling noises fill the small apartment as Luffy inhales and takes a large hit. He gets up, strolls over to an open window and steadily breathes the smoke from his lungs.

Least he's still got the sense to do that, means he's not _too _high – yet. Nami bitches him out if he doesn't. She doesn't like the air too stifling and smoky, or the stench itself. Zoro's with her on that one.

Nami lifts her feet as Luffy passes the bong to Usopp and he gets up, accepting it. "You're gonna regret that when we play the level I made," he tells Luffy as he passes by, heading for the window to take a hit.

Zoro takes a calm sip of his beer, leaves it poised at his mouth as he watches the lively trio interact from his small, silent haven of the armchair. They get back to their game. Luffy and Usopp are comically intense and focused now, flickering between entranced to stupidly amused in seconds. Nami is simply scrolling through her phone, occasionally lifting her gaze to watch the boys' antics on the game.

As they chatter and daze, Zoro's mind wanders. Unlike Usopp, Nami's done with school – got some kind of finance or business degree, or both, Zoro can't remember. While she was in school and even after she graduated she'd been doing something shady – swindling people out of their money some way or another. She'd explained it to him once during one of their drinking contests, but Zoro didn't care enough to remember. The alcohol probably helped a little with that, too. Past year or so she's been planting her foot into stock broking – makes a lot of trips to New York. She apparently knows Luffy's friend, Sanji, pretty well due to this.

Usopp explained to him earlier this evening what happened at Zest last night, that there'd been a scheduling mix up and he found out about it last minute. It hadn't helped that Zoro's phone had been dead at the time. He only got the message that a pickup was no longer needed after he plugged the damn thing in at his booth. Zoro occasionally swings by the place to pick Usopp up after a shift, usually when he feels like sitting down somewhere and having a beer. Plus he likes cutting Usopp some slack. He's a busy student with loads of debt. Sometimes a solid drive home after a busy day of school and work is all the poor guy needs.

According to Usopp, this Sanji guy is employed at Zest too, just started working there. It has Zoro worried slightly. He doesn't usually fret about this shit but if that blond waiter had been Sanji, he doesn't know where it'll put him with Ace if word gets out. He'd really rather not make waves with it.

He's never seen a picture of the man and doesn't have a Facebook – fuck that bullshit – and since Usopp brought it up an hour ago he's been wavering back and forth with the idea of asking Luffy to show him a photo. But he's pretty sure he doesn't care enough to fully investigate it. He's got a gut feeling it was Luffy's friend though – after all, he knows the guy fucks men, and he had reason to be working at the restaurant last night – but Zoro simply shrugs it all off for now. If he's gotta deal with it in the future, then he'll deal with it. No use worrying about a problem that hasn't even surfaced yet.

He's jolted out of his mind when the boisterous intro to Date Rape by Sublime blares from Usopp's speakers, courtesy of Luffy. Immediately Zoro cringes from the memories attached to this song and he yells over the music, "Hey, Luffy! Turn this shit off!"

Luffy cups a hand to his ear and turns the volume down a bit. "What?"

"I said turn this off!"

"Why? Love this song!" Luffy says, confused.

Zoro groans. "This shit takes me right back to your stupid ass decision to go to the Yukon!"

Immediately Luffy's temper flares. "It wasn't stupid, it was fun! Wouldn't have met Chopper if I hadn't wanted to go, idiot!"

Zoro clenches his teeth, still not over it after all this time. "I can't even count how many times I almost drove my car off narrow as fuck mountain paths listening to this shit. I don't wanna hear it. Put something else on!"

Luffy frowns and sinks, mumbling a strained 'fine' as he scrolls through Usopp's laptop for another song. He settles on Streetlight Manifesto, one of his go-to bands.

Memories of their escapades in the Yukon have Zoro glossing over the entire adventure they'd shared years ago. He and Luffy had met six years ago in a dusty old gas station diner in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, New Mexico. They'd both been on their way to Texas – Zoro to visit two old friends, Johnny and Yosaku, and Luffy to fulfill the first destination of his road trip. They'd ended up mutually lost somewhere along the way. Luffy and his foster brothers had come from some small little mountain town in Colorado and after just barely graduating high school, he'd immediately set out on this big road trip of his dreams. It'd been something his heart had been set on since childhood, the freedom of adulthood and the ability to go wherever he pleased on adventures of his choosing.

When Luffy realized his bus had already passed through Texas, he'd forced the driver to stop immediately at the diner. The map Zoro had been following had simply been a faulty one and Zoro stopped at the same diner to get a new one and grab some food. First time Zoro saw Luffy, the scraggly teen had brashly taken a seat across from him at his table. Took Zoro a while to warm up to the kid, but they'd both been lost, hungry, and on their way to Texas. Zoro had a car and didn't have anything against helping out a random lunatic – he'd experienced far worse things to be afraid of travelling with loony strangers – and so they hit the road together.

The first stop had been Texas, of course, though it took some effort to get there. All of their destinations had taken much too long, come to think of it. At that stage of Zoro's life, he'd still been drifting, had no real place to be, no responsibilities, so after Texas when Luffy asked him to join in on his road trip, he'd shrugged and agreed. As dangerous and aggravating and exhausting as that road trip had been, Zoro doesn't regret his decision to this day.

From Texas they drove on to Florida where they met Nami and Nojiko. The sisters had been working in their foster father Genzo's restaurant in Jacksonville, the original Zest, which had put their family in a lot of debt. If not for Nami's illegal activities, the business would've gone under. When Luffy and Zoro met her, she'd been up to her neck in shit with a bad crowd, owed them a lot of favours in exchange for their financial help – she'd practically sold her soul to them. When she discovered just how trapped she was in that life with those people, that it had been an unfair deal from the start, she became desperate to get away.

That's how Luffy and Zoro spent a lot of time with her, hiding her in motel rooms during their excursions throughout Florida. But Nami began to worry for her family, so they went back to check in on them. Strangely enough, what resolved things was the night two thugs broke into Zest and burned it to the ground. They'd been in the area keeping an eye on things when it happened, so Luffy and Zoro chased them down, beat them bloody and called the police. Further investigation went into the arsonists and it was from there that Nami was approached by one of the top dogs in her gang and bribed not to leak information during the trial. In exchange she would be given a large sum of money and a guarantee of safety for her family, as well as her freedom. Their ownership of her simply wasn't worth further exposure and scrutiny from the law. Zest was rebuilt with the money and Luffy suggested they start a new one somewhere. That somewhere ended up being in Boston, with Nojiko running the place and Genzo sticking to his revamped one down south.

After Luffy had left his mark on Nami's life, he and Zoro progressed to North Carolina where they met Usopp. At the time, Usopp had been in a relationship with Kaya and about to graduate high school. He'd hated his small country hometown, wanted to move on to bigger and better things, but Kaya wanted to go to school in-state, since UNC was one of the best medical schools in the country. Usopp however dreamt of going somewhere more lively and interesting. Somewhere that could match his ambitions. He'd loved Kaya dearly, but meeting Luffy changed his life. Luffy convinced him to go out of state for school and eventually Usopp did, choosing to go to Boston after Luffy moved there and pressed Usopp to join him.

In college, he and Kaya shared a long distance relationship that took years to fizzle out. Zoro still remembers how tortured Usopp had been over it, especially because Kaya had been his dream girl since he was a kid and his love for her had always been unquestionable. But meeting Nami during college had complicated things, and he came to realize he'd fallen out of love with his childhood friend.

After leaving Usopp behind in North Carolina, they made their way to New York. This was where Luffy and Zoro split off for a bit. New York was so massive with its confusing maze-streets and hordes of people that Luffy had stupidly got separated from him. Zoro knew for a fact it wasn't him who'd gotten lost, which is what Luffy always seemed to accuse.

Anyway, he'd ended up in some fucked up dim-lit bar and picked a fight with a middle-aged kook who'd clearly been born in the wrong era – real character, this one – dressed all in black and purple, all crosses and feathered hats and shit. Zoro had been damn tipsy and he's sure the man had been even more hammered – off wine, the stiff-necked prick – as they both bonded over a passionate, mutual interest in swords. They boasted their skills, got pretty competitive, then heated and the scene turned ridiculous pretty quick when they saw two crossed swords hanging on the wall for aesthetic. But they were real – unpolished and not their sharpest, but real – and the next thing Zoro knew he was hospitalized, the only thing keeping his torso together some feeble needle and thread. He'd gotten in some trouble for it, managed to wriggle his way out like he always did. Felt like a right fool for almost getting split open by a nutjob like that.

Apparently during his absence Luffy had met his cook friend Sanji after careening through the front window of the restaurant the guy worked at. Typical. Zoro didn't know much more than that. He's sure Luffy had blabbered on about it after they drove out of New York but see, Zoro had just been happy getting the hell out of that fucking nightmare of a city to pay much mind to Luffy's stories.

Their destinations had been pretty logical up until that point, from a geographical perspective. It was around here that Luffy made the bizarre, completely out of left field decision to head for the Yukon. That ridiculous detour was where Zoro's car had taken the biggest beating. It'd also been a nightmare to get there – the amount of times they'd ended up in the middle of nowhere or somewhere fucked up or in the opposite direction entirely was beyond Zoro. When they finally did break the Canadian border, Luffy had been so excited about being in Canada that they had to make an eternal amount of stops, which delayed them even more. Once in the Canadian territory of Luffy's arbitrary choice, the mountain paths left an array of dents and scrapes on his car and they nearly plummeted off cliff sides so much Zoro pretty much prayed for it after a while.

They'd met Chopper in a very isolated mountain community on their way back from Whitehorse. The kid was living with his cranky grandma, the only doctor in the community. He was shy and unsocialized, a gentle spirit shunned and bullied by what little peers he did have. The boy lived in his mind and in his books, always studying like he wanted to be someone great, be somewhere better, but never having the confidence to get there. The kid had lived a truly lonely life in a community so secluded and disconnected from the world that Zoro couldn't help sympathizing. If anyone could understand this kind of upbringing and how it fucked with your head, it was him. So Zoro always did have a weak spot for the kid.

Chopper had wanted to go to medical school after graduating high school but didn't have the strength to leave his hometown, let alone the territory or country. Luffy provided him with true warmth and unbiased friendship, touched his heart and soul enough to give him the courage he needed. Gave him that extra push, and two years later Chopper found himself in Boston studying to become a doctor.

Their next destination was back down south in the desert, close to where it all began – Nevada. Luffy had wanted to see Area 51 so they drove on the dusty desert paths for several maddening days trying to find it. When they finally approached a large sign that told them to back off if they didn't want to be arrested, frisked up their shitholes, fined and possibly shot dead, of course Luffy had strolled right by it like a cakewalk. The black SUV eerily perched on the hill drifted its way down and suffice to say Zoro didn't remember the next few days.

Obviously they had to hit up Vegas. They met Robin at the Bellagio luxury casino, she'd been a blackjack dealer there who called Luffy and Zoro out on their fake IDs, but cut them some slack and let them play. Zoro had his suspicions at first, not knowing what she had to gain from letting them play. When he lost most of his money his mistrust was exacerbated – thought he'd been duped into it – whereas Luffy's luck always superseded Zoro's, and he actually made them a couple thousand for the road. That had put Zoro's mind at ease.

Robin's boss was a right prick – took his image in this counterfeit Italian fantasy a little too seriously with his hair slicked back, a giant fur coat of his shoulders topped off with a pin-striped vest. Never not biting on a cigar, he acted like the Sicilian mobster he so hilariously wasn't – gave Robin a creepy amount of attention, the disgusting kind, the kind that pissed Luffy and him off. They got to know Robin as they gambled, learned that she had dropped out of school – had been studying for a PhD in archeology – fell from grace and ended up blackjacking in Vegas and was living with crippling debt.

They had several misadventures throughout the City of Lights, Robin agreeing to show them around during the day. He and Luffy kind of fucked up her plans a lot, ending up in places she warned them to avoid but smiling while they dragged her along. They continued to play blackjack at her table when the strip lit up at night. Luffy noticed how sad she was as she worked, like a part of her had died in Vegas, like her potential was turning to ash. One night he convinced her to get out of there because she wasn't happy, that she wasn't living and this city was nothing but a façade. That she deserved to live better and was more genuine than this place. Something in her lit up that night, brighter than the city she'd used to outshine her for far too long. She solidified a loan, reapplied for school, quit and moved to Boston half a year later.

They then left Robin in Vegas and headed west, straight for sunny California. They hit up Los Angeles to check Hollywood out and its glamour. Luffy fell halfway off the 'H' in the hills, dragging Zoro with him and earning Luffy a broken arm. After Luffy's arm gained a cast, they headed down to San Diego where they had a shaky first meeting with Franky after sneaking onto his boat, which was anchored offshore from the beach in the water. It was large and had been specifically built to resemble a real pirate ship, so Luffy couldn't refuse swimming over to check it out. The man almost drowned them when they were caught climbing aboard like they'd been invited, chasing them around the ship and giving Luffy – the less apologetic of the two – a couple solid right hooks. Eventually he cooled and offered them a seat and a beer simply for having the guts to do it.

They soon discovered that he'd built the ship they were sitting on and Luffy was enamored with him from there. Franky let them in on his life and his current circumstances, how he might have to sell the ship soon to pay his rent. He'd co-owned a shipwright business but had been run out a while back for being too picky with their customers, wanting to turn the company into something that focused on more artistic and creative projects. His heart didn't fit in with their business-oriented goals, and so he became unemployed, living off the money they gave him to settle his dismissal from the company. Luffy told him to do commission work, that if he built this boat himself there were people with money out there who would sink their teeth into his passion of making functional, creatively themed ships. It took some time, but after accompanying Franky on several trips at sea, eventually the man made the decision to follow his dream.

Luffy and Zoro left the very next day, heading straight for their last destination, New Orleans. They were broke at this point, couldn't afford to keep going anymore after Zoro's car kicked it and they needed a repair job. They had to use the last of their money from Vegas to fix it in New Orleans. They met Brook and his violin in some spooky, scuzzy underground bar, playing a song so sad Luffy had no choice but to barge himself into the man's life. They shared some drinks together until the bar closed, but they stayed up all night, Brook showing them around the area. He talked about his former band and how they'd all died in an accident many years back. He'd been performing solo ever since, doing gigs in rundown bars nobody ever seemed to be aware of. He was stuck in that city, stuck in his past, trapped in his guilt and loneliness and bereavement.

The next day Luffy took it upon himself to drag Brook around downtown with his violin, forcing him to join in with random performers on the streets. He spent the entire day playing with friendly strangers and it revived him, gave him back some of the life he'd lost. After Zoro and Luffy left and ended their adventure, Brook spent the next year gathering new musicians and worked his way back up from square one. Now he and his band are doing well, still up and coming, but their hard work has paid off. They've put out solid albums every two years and are so busy on tour it's hard to see much of Brook anymore. But his home base is now in Boston, so he does come back regularly enough.

Two men on the road, crossing state borders, constantly testing the limits of one small car, braving America and leaving an influential trail in their wake. They had gathered their offbeat band of friends, and after the trip was over, Luffy decided to move to Boston for work. His mom had bought out a construction business there. He kept in contact with everyone he met on the road and he'd touched their lives so much they all flocked and trickled into Boston in the years following, absolutely magnetized to him. Luffy always did have that crazy ability to gather crowds, make the most unlikely of friends and instill a craving in others to simply be in his presence.

It's completely opposite of Zoro and not typically something he places value in, but he has to respect it in Luffy. The fact that Luffy's natural charisma worked on Zoro from the get-go and that he continues to feel this drawn to the man is still such a surprise to him. He never can quite put it into words why Luffy has this power over him. He'd only succumbed to something like this once in the past, but even so, it still leaves him scratching his head.

But it's the only reason he's surrounded by people he cares for – people who also care for him – and he's pretty sure he wouldn't have found this warm nest if not for Luffy. There's no way he would have settled in Boston if not for him. He would have kept drifting, having no ties to anyone, living a reclusive life on the road. He'd have still been surviving, and not _living_, and so even though he's not fond of city life, he can say he's found a home here.

Suddenly the booming music is cut and it has Zoro blinking, realizing he'd been dozing there with his head back and his eyes closed like a moron for...fuck if he knows how long. Been pulled into a damn trance by those memories. Loud ringing fills the room and Zoro looks to the source, Luffy's phone flat on the floor, calling someone on speakerphone. Zoro looks around, seeing that Usopp has cozied up to Nami on the couch, his head in her lap as they stay quiet and wait for whoever Luffy's calling to pick up.

"_Hello?"_

"Sanji!" Luffy shouts into the mic.

Zoro's eyes widen slightly and he perks up as the man groans loudly on the other line. _"Don't fucking yell into my ear like that – shit! Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack."_

It's hard to tell with speakerphone – Sanji's voice is so muffled – but that silky tone, the way he'd groaned...Zoro's trying to put the pieces together as the man continues to talk. He _thinks_ this could be the waiter he'd fucked last night, but there's no way to be absolutely sure. Definitely sounds like it could be him. And that temper isn't disproving much.

"Sorry!" Luffy quickly apologizes. "So my friends Robin and Franky wanna get together for lunch this Sunday. You haven't met them so I figured you'd wanna come. You free?"

"_This Sunday? Ah, yeah..."_ the man pauses, humming softly. _"Think I can do it."_

"Cool!" Luffy says with a pleased grin. "Bye Sanji!"

"_Wait, Luffy, where—"_ His voice cuts off as Luffy hangs up and turns to Zoro.

"You're comin' too, right? So you can meet Sanji?"

This could get messy if his suspicions are correct, but hell, there's no avoiding it no matter what he does. Better to just face it head on. Besides, he knows how important this is to Luffy. He scratches the back of his neck and complies, "Yeah, fine."

* * *

Nights later, Zoro breathes out heavily as he finishes his last rep for the bench press. He locks the massive weight in place and sits up, grabbing a white towel to wipe his face and neck. That's all he gives himself for a breather, leaving the towel on his neck as he picks up his barbells and gets to work.

There's a question he doesn't like people asking him when they find out he fucks men. He'd been asked it earlier today. That question is: 'Are you gay?'

He isn't. He has sex with women and it doesn't make him bi, either. Nami says he could be accurately described as pansexual, but Zoro doesn't give a fuck about these stupid labels people go bending over backwards for. He likes who he likes and fucks who he fucks. That's all there is to it. He thinks it's pretty simple but he doesn't know why everybody's got to make it so goddamn complicated. He hates it when people try to fit him into a box, even when their intentions aren't bad. He is who he is and it's so annoying to explain himself to these idiots, he simply chooses silence more often than not.

Now he's got to meet this Sanji guy for lunch with Luffy and them and a part of him is hoping the waiter and Sanji are not the same person, while the other part thinks it would be pretty damn funny. To avoid any possible bellyaching from Ace, he's going to have to keep it under wraps and shit which is annoying. But he can't deny it would be a hilarious coincidence and he might have to toss a few teases out if it happens.

The waiter had left his number too, which means if that was Sanji, he'd wanted to hook up again. But if this is the case, Zoro's sure it won't be an issue for them both – they wouldn't have anything to gain from continuing to fuck in this friend circle. That is if the guy has any sense of dignity or respect.

Would be kind of a shame though, to not have that freedom to explore. As much as sexual greed and neediness is such a turn-off for Zoro, the guy really had been a good lay. Wasn't often he met someone who mutually wanted to take what Zoro gave in sex. Wasn't often he craved someone like that on the spot, either.

Wasn't often someone made him lose control of himself, making him sink his teeth into the bait the way he had – the way he'd let his thoughts slip out of control just now. Damn. What was wrong with him?

His workout finished, Zoro went for the shower to wash away the sweat, put his muscles at ease and hopefully clear his mind. It doesn't take long after he steps into the water and steam that his mind's betraying him again, showing him what he'd done to the waiter in here that night, hands caressing down that lithe body, mouth and teeth pressing that pretty blond head of his into the tile – and shit, the way the man had taken his lips between his teeth and dragged Zoro forward into that kiss. That wily little fuck. Sucked and tugged on his earring in the hallway, too, and to be honest that'd turned Zoro on like mad in seconds.

He likes it when his partners give him snark and attitude while he breaks them and make them moan. The waiter had just been that perfect balance of...

Zoro turns off the water and presses his hands to the tile. Fuck. Why is he so fixated this time? He needs to control himself – this isn't him.

He dries himself off and slips on a black pair of boxers. Then he heads for the kitchen to get a glass of cold water before heading to bed. It's only while he's filling the glass that he glances to his mess on the counter and sees the crumpled up receipt hiding under a milk carton. Eying it, he gulps down the water in seconds and slams the glass to the counter, sighing heartily. His body on autopilot, Zoro pads over and grabs the balled up receipt, opening it up and flattening it out on the counter.

He stares at the number scribbled on the paper with a frown, lip curving up in thought as he leans over the counter with arms spread far apart. And then it's that feeling he's come to know so well. Pure isolation, like the pain of being miles and miles deep in the desert – nothingness, absolute solitude, his beating heart the only sound of life. That need for a human's touch and warmth, to bear himself the only way he's come to learn. He's itching for it.

Zoro's jaw tightens and he turns his gaze forward, drifting off from the paper. His features tighten up in his confusion.

It isn't supposed to come this soon.

The page crumples again in his fist and he wastes no time opening the cabinet under the sink and tossing it into the bin like the garbage it is. As he walks back to his room, the weight of that feeling bleeds away and his mind is his own again.

* * *

Just as predicted, Sunday arrives and Zoro's opening his door to let Luffy and his friend in. As Luffy greets him and introduces the man accompanying him, Zoro takes in his friend Sanji.

He's seen those blond locks sprawled over his bedspread, that weird-ass curly brow wrinkled in pleasure, those pretty lips puffed and kiss-bruised, that wiry body arching and slick with sweat under his own, those slender arms locked firmly in his grip, that very same thin neck crushed beneath his palms. That striking blue eye – same one that'd ogled him hungrily all night – staring back at him now in absolute shock and horror.

Yup. He's officially fucked Sanji – Luffy's friend, Ace's ex and the mysterious waiter, one in the same. He'd be disappointed and horrified if it wasn't so fucking funny.

Lunch is going to be entertaining if not a pain in the ass.

* * *

tbc


End file.
